The Tale of a Man and the Monsters
by DrSpiggster
Summary: Gotham City, an ever growing pool of crime. When 20 women die in less than 3 month, the Commissioner gives into the city's demands, and calls in the BAU. The two doctors seem to have a previous relationship.
1. Called In

**The Tale of a Man and the Monsters**

**Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are owned by DC Comics, and The Mark Gordon Company, respectively. I earn no money writing this, just happiness.**

-JCxSR-

They both stood awkwardly in their respective corners, much younger than the majority of the experts in the field of psychology. Spencer Reid, however, is even younger than Jonathan Crane. Dr. Crane holds no spite over Spencer Reid, just curiosity. Dr. Reid was a timid boy in Crane's eyes, he was completely out of his element when dealing with people. Then again, so was Dr. Crane.

-JCxSR-

The next time Dr. Crane would see Spencer's face would be in a news article in a psychology magazine, sent to him by Jason Gideon. He hummed, '_So this boy is Jason's lackey.. And working for the FBI, how cute_.' Dr. Crane respected Gideon, there was no doubt that he was one of the best in the behavioral analyst field, but in Crane's eyes, he was weak; he had risked the lives of those agents, and mourned them greatly, despite the fact those agents had known that there were dangers to the job.

Unconsciously, Jonathan reached for his scissors to cut out Dr. Reid's picture. He smiled softly, cutting the picture out to add to his ever growing collection on the awkward boy genius. He didn't care for him, no, he was just interested to watch how Dr. Reid progressed, despite his ever growing fear of suffering at the hand of schizophrenia.

-JCxSR-

The next time Spencer Reid would see Jonathan's face would be in a news article in the Gotham Daily, sent to him by Jason Gideon. He glued the picture, and the article, admiring the young, yet older, man for achieving to be the youngest head psychologist at the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Despite his eidetic memory, Spencer felt the nagging need to save the article. It gave him hope that Dr. Crane wouldn't be consumed by his dark childhood, and would use his knowledge for good.

"New case kid," called Morgan. Spencer flailed, while shoving the binder in his desk drawer.

"Got it," he called, grabbing his sugary coffee with thoughts of a dominating blue eyed man in his head.

"Twenty women in three months, all centralized in Gotham City," JJ walked in quickly, sticking up some pictures on the board. Young girls filled the board, all of them almost looking alive in the crime scene photos.

"The unsub's posing them," began Gideon, "which would normally imply remorse, but this.. This is beyond just posing them."

"There's no connection between these women, there isn't even any similarities, other than they're young women. Some are married, with children, some are single, some are even still living with their parents." stated Reid, looking at the photos. Some of the women had similar hair colour, but that was it. They were slim ones, not-so-slim ones, red-heads, brunettes, blonds. His type was just young and female.

"The unsub is obviously a male, this attacks are too vicious to be a woman serial killer." added Morgan.

"But what's his trophy? What does he gain from these attacks besides the fulfilment of his fantasy?" finished Gideon.

-JCxSR-

Heavy files landed on Dr. Crane's desk, as Detective Gordon looked down on him. Dr. Crane flipped through them quickly, seeing brief pictures of the crime scenes, as well as the names of the victims.

"You recognize this work, Dr. Crane?"

"No officer. You should know that I am not a behavioural analyst. A team from the FBI's BAU is coming in shortly, the Commissioner requested them. Twenty women in three months, this isn't the sort of publicity that Gotham needs," Dr. Crane picked up the folders and handed them back to Detective Gordon, with a small, mocking smile.

"Of course. Thank you for your time," replied Detective Gordon curtly, pulling the files from long fingers. Dr. Crane turned back to his desk, to continue his work. He had better things to do than help police department.

-JCxSR-

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Detective Gordon shock their hands, as each on entered the police station.

"It's no trouble," began Hotchner, "we're just wondering why we weren't called in sooner."

"Well, the murders were pretty scattered, the only thing similar was the posing," replied Gordon quietly. "Please, here's the room you requested."

Inside, there was a large table, and a board covered in the photos of the women in order of death. A large map of Gotham was placed on the table, along with the a two towering piles of folders surrounding the murders. As soon as they entered, the team began forming a profile from what they could.

"Despite the fact that these attacks seem random, it's likely that he has some sort of safe zone, somewhere he either lives or works. He doesn't want attention, he just wants to fulfill his fantasy, and bringing to police to the areas where he lives or works would go against what he wants. Considering, however, the ferocity of these crimes, he'd have to live close by to the crime scenes, or at least own, or drive, a car," said Reid, while extracting a marker, and creating circles around the addresses of the murders.

"The fact he's so vicious, means he's young and he's fit. And he's confident, he's killing some of these women with their family in the home," added Morgan.

"You can get all that just from the photos?" asked Gordon, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes. Elle, Morgan, go to the last crime scene, see what you can find. Reid, you continue finding his safe zone. Gideon, we're going to go talk with the families. There has to be more to his victimology than just young female," stated Hotchner.

"The last two victims, their parents are here," Gordon directed the two agents to the grieving parents, while Elle and Morgan left the station. Just as they left, Dr. Crane walked in, carrying his usual brief case.

"Excuse me, Detective Gordon? I accidentally handed you a file of my own earlier," Jonathan interrupted the conversation unintentionally, nodding toward Gideon.

"Oh, Special Agents Hotchner, Gideon, meet the head of staff at Arkham Asylum, Dr. Jonathan Crane," introduced Gordon.

"We've previously met," said Gideon, letting Hotchner shake Crane's hand. "Congratulations on the position Dr. Crane."

"Thank you. Now, Detective, the folders?"

"They're in that room with.. -" Gordon pointed toward the briefing room, while looking to Hotchner and Gideon for help with the name.

"Dr. Reid," said Gideon, smiling. He knew that an interesting conversation would take place in the briefing room, it wasn't difficult to see that Jonathan Crane had more than just a friendly relationship with Spencer.

"Thank you," Dr. Crane returned the gesture, but it seemed almost cruel when he smiled.

-JCxSR-

Reid continued to flick through the folders, and reading the addresses of each of the victims. He quickly got to the twenty-first folder, which boggled him. There were only twenty victims, why were there twenty-one folders? He pulled it closer to himself, and saw that his name written on the folder, in tight clean writing. When he opened it, he saw many articles about him, and photos of him, both taken from magazines and newspapers, to blurry shots from college.

Whoever made this was slightly obsessed with him, for whatever reason, and had contact with the police in Gotham City. It could possibly have been Gordon, but he didn't react any different with Reid than he had with the rest of the team. So who could have it been?

"That's mine," whispered a voice, from the door which had just clicked shut.

"Oh. Dr. Crane, it's nice to see you again... But, why do you have a folder concerning me?" Reid jumped up from his seat, and shut the folder. He watched the other doctor at a slight downward angle; he was taller than the other doctor, by a few inches.

"I'm interested in you. A young doctor, achieving things unheard of before. We're quite similar in that way," said Jonathan, taking the folder from the table.

"But, just because you're interested doesn't mean you have to keep a physical folder on me; keeping a folder on someone you're interested in suggests obsession, especially when you have photos unreleased to the public," Reid quickly tucked some fallen hair back behind his ear, replacing his glasses after he did.

"Forgive me doctor, but I am not obsessed. It's just nice to know that someone else is out there, pushing similar boundaries that I am. You know as well as I do that it is nice to be able to relate to someone, despite your fear of people," Dr. Crane seemingly appeared next to Reid, crossing the entire room in what seemed like no time at all.

"Excuse me? I do not fear people, I -."

"You fear their reaction to your.. Abnormal behaviour, just as you fear becoming a paranoid schizophrenic, like your mother," Dr. Crane smiled carefully at Reid, who licked his lips in a nervous habit. Dr. Crane lay the folder back down, onto the folders of the fifteenth and sixteenth victims.

"That information isn't any of your business, Dr. Crane-," Reid was quickly interrupted.

"Dr. Reid, it's public information, easily found by anyone with access to the Internet. You don't have to take it quite so personally," blue eyes quickly consumed Reid's soft brown eyes. Reid quickly dodged Jonathan's gaze, and moved to the other side of the table. Dr. Crane smiled. "I'll be on my way. It was nice seeing you." He nodded, before leaving through a heavy wooden door. Spencer held the chair tightly, Dr. Crane was definitely still just as cold as he was the first time they had met.

-JCxSR-

_Men with bald spots, and greying hair, discussed various psychological topics, while Spencer kept to the back. He twisted the strap of his bag, while looking about, trying and find a fellow young psychologist that his mentor had told him would be there._

_"Hello." Spencer turned to the new voice, seeing a young man, compared to the others, who looked to be in his mid twenties. "Jonathan Crane. It's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard about you from my professors. A boy genius they called you." Jonathan reached out his hand, Spencer returning the same gesture._

_"Spencer Reid. Gideon said you would be here. He spoke highly of you concerning your specialty in biochemistry, and how it affects your outlook psychology. I'd love to discuss, in depth, your thoughts on studies concerning chemical depression where the patient lacks the proper neurotransmitters responsible for emotion: dopamine, endorphins and epinephrine."_

_"So, you're Gideon's lacky?" He completely ignored the question._

_"I wouldn't say that," replied a flustered Spencer. He twisted his bag's strap once more, and bit his bottom lip._

_"I didn't mean to sound insulting, please forgive me for using such a rude term. Concerning your question, chemical depression, in my opinion, is easier to treat. There's less mental reasoning behind the depression, thus there's no confusion as to why the person is feeling 'sad'. However, it can be difficult to treat, as every individuals chemical imbalance varies from a minute amount to large amounts. Just as with regular depression, it's required that the patient speak of their problems, but the treatment isn't nearly as required as it is with as with the patient suffering from regular depression."_

_The conversation continued along these lines, retorts going back and forth, until Jonathan broke the pattern._

_"Let's go to dinner," Spencer, who was talking fiercely on his perspective on sociopaths, stopped suddenly._

_"Um, actually, I mean, yes?"_

_"Excellent. Is Indian good with you?"_

_"Indian sounds wonderful."_

-JCxSR-

"So, I'm a ripper. I enjoy cutting my victim's throat," Morgan stood in front of the chair where the last victim was posed, "And then I pose them. Why? It's definitely not remorse. This guy doesn't care about his victims, he'd choose them more carefully if he cared in the least about who he killed. "

"Maybe he's mocking them?" added Elle, flipping through the girl's magazines.

"But why? Why would he mock them?"

"You're the expert in obsessional killing. You can figure it out," she sighed, tossing down some overdue bills. "This girl was a financial mess."

"He'd mock their life, because.. He feels that death is a savior. He's saving them, he feels he's saving them."

"Saving them from what?" Elle crossed her arms, looking at Morgan, who was holding a picture of the last girl in his hand. She was a regular girl, with lengthy chocolate curls. Her pose was simple, reading her Cosmos with a warm black coffee. The killer didn't care enough to see if the girl even liked coffee.

"From being alive."

-JCxSR-

Reid twisted the fabric of the chair, before returning to the map and colouring in the area of overlap. It wasn't an extremely large area, barely two miles squared. He pinned the map on the board, and heard the door open once more.

"Those families couldn't be anymore different. The Brooks cared more about the bloody furniture than for Victoria, and the Reynolds couldn't stop their crying the entire time," stated Gideon.

"We're no where closer to finding his type than before. It's still just simple a young female," Hotchner sat down.

"Well, according to the geographical profile, this killer doesn't strike anywhere in this," Reid traced the closed pen across the boundaries, "area. It's his safe zone."

"He's disorganized, he doesn't find out their likes or dislikes, but he's organized enough to know when the families spend time together. He's organized enough to not leave any clues," Gideon paced back and forth. Elle and Morgan walked in.

"He's mocking their lives. He's posing them because he thinks he's saving them from life," Morgan glared at the posed photos under the regular profile shots of the girls.

"This guy doesn't care if about type, his fantasy is giving these girls salvation."

"But, what is he saving them from? What problems could living pose?"

"That's it! Living is the problem. He's saving these girls because they are living. As long as they are alive, they're consumed by their ordinary lives, going to work, and paying their bills. That's what similar between these girls, they all worked, around the same area. This area." Reid once more pointed to the established safe zone drawn on the map.

"He was rich once, he obviously wasted all his money, either paying bills or debts, and watching these women do the same frustrates him to no end. He just trying to save them," Gideon stopped pacing. "We're ready to give the profile."

-JCxSR-

"Are you able to create enough toxin to consume the city?" asked a voice from the darkness. Ra's al Ghul was a mysterious figure, never given any other inclination to what he looked like, or where he came from.

"One more shipment is all I need to complete my end of the deal. I trust you'll keep your end," two blue eyes shone brightly in the dark room

"Don't worry, you'll get your shipment. I'm personally making sure this new.. Vigilante doesn't do a thing."

"Vigilante? I wasn't aware of any vigilante," Jonathan placed his hands on the table, looking toward Carmine Falcone, and his goons.

"I've got my sources," Falcone leaned forward, with a dangerous smile on his face. "Let's just say, this guy is a whack-job if he thinks he can save this city, my city."

-JCxSR-

"He's young, early twenties, yet he's organized enough to not leave any clues," began Gideon. "He was once rich, but his funds have run low. He spent it all on paying debts, bills, something. He wasted whatever money he had on someone, or something else."

"This unsub isn't going to leave Gotham City, it's his territory. However, it's likely that he will not kill anyone in this area," added Reid, encircling a small working district where the victims all worked, "as it's his hunting grounds, so to speak. He chooses them, and then follows them home in a stolen car."

"His fantasy only involves a young woman, he'll kill any woman, as long as she's trying to earn enough to pay her bills. In his mind, he's saving them from the fate of being stuck in a never ending financial circle," Morgan pointed at the photos.

"Considering the amount of time he takes posing his victims, and how much time he spends waiting in the shadows to silt their throats, it's likely that he won't have a job. Especially since he doesn't want to have to start paying bills once more," Hotchner stated.

"He's posing them, to mock their lives. He doesn't care about feelings, or empathy, he's a pure sociopath," finished Gideon. The cops in the briefing room nodded, before heading off.

"I wonder if the Commissioner even realizes that this is completely useless," stated Detective Gordon, remaining behind with the BAU team.

"Excuse me?" asked Gideon.

"This city is beyond redemption Agent Gideon. The majority of those cops won't even leave the station, let alone look for anyone responsible. How do you think a man covered in blood is able to get away for three months?"

-JCxSR-

**Author's note: I've had a strong urge to write a proper Batman X Criminal Minds cross-over (As there is, surprisingly, almost none!), while also achieving my special ship of Jonathan Crane and Spencer Reid. Thus, this story. It correlates the beginning of Batman Begins, as well as the early BAU team on Criminal Minds (Main differences: Less JJ, and Elle was still a member).**

**This prologue is ridiculously long, but I felt the need to make it so. I wanted to get all the majority murder out and move toward Jonathan and Spencer's relationship. That's the main reason for this story.**

**If you couldn't figure out who the murder is, then I, as a Batman fan, am ashamed. It's Zsasz! I gave him more reasoning behind his murders, as I based his character from the Batman: Arkham Asylum rendition, as well as adding my own musings as to why he kills and poses these women. If my reasoning doesn't satisfy you, I apologize. It's only my interpretation as to the question "why" in this situation.**

**As with any other properly written fanfction, I apologize for any misspellings, and for any improper grammar. I'm only human.**


	2. The Letter Opener

**The Tale of a Man and the Monsters**

**Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are owned by DC Comics, and The Mark Gordon Company, respectively. I earn no money writing this, just happiness.**

-JCxSR-

"Mr. Falcone, do you realize that, however, a team from FBI has currently established an investigation in our fine city?" Jonathan leaned forward and folded his hands. It was nice to have information that the head mobster of Gotham didn't have.

"When did this happen? None of my sources said anythin' about the FBI being here?" Falcone looked over at the henchman to his right, who just shrugged. Falcone waved him off.

"Oh, but they're here. They'll quickly be able to see through your corrupt cops, and none of us can afford that sort of mistake. It may be your city, but this ... Is not just about you," Jonathan stared straight into Falcone's eyes. The mobster leaned back into his leather seat, feeling uncomfortable with those cold blue eyes boring into his soul.

"I would suggest that you get your cops to behave with the team Falcone. Do whatever they want and get them out of here," Ra's al Ghul spoke from his shadowy corner.

"Don't worry, I'll send the word to catch this guy. The feds'll be out of here in no time," Falcone sniffed at the idea of the FBI spending more time in Gotham.

"Good. You two may go. Falcone, the shipment will be coming a month. Be sure to deliver the rabbits to our good doctor when they arrive." Jonathan nodded and left as quickly as he entered.

"Don't worry, I will. It'll be the same hour as last time, right?"

"Yes. Now go, I'm sure you're just itching to tell your officers to actually do their job."

-JCxSR-

Morgan walked into the briefing room that the team had and immediately called Garcia. The tech-girl quickly picked up the phone with a quick punch of a button.

"Board of Super-awesome, president speaking," her fingers were ready to start typing, and a pen was tucked behind her ear for easy access.

"Baby girl, we need your help," Morgan smiled, despite the desperate situation.

"Of course you do. Shoot."

"Can you track down all previously rich guys in the area? Preferably those who have lost their money only recently."

"Please, that's going to be too easy," fast typing took place. "Okay, I'm going to need something better than that, because there's a lot of now poor schmucks in Gotham."

"Aw, come on sweetheart, it can't be that hard."

"Mister, I know you have more information to give me, and I demand you give it to me," she commanded.

"Oh, demanding little fox. Guys under 25."

"You forgot to say please, but.. Okay. You've got .. 20 names now," she tapped her thumb on the space bar without pressing it.

"Please, can you check which ones only had places in Gotham City when they were rich?"

"Still a lot, 15. Though I don't get why they'd want to stay in Gotham City." There was a tapping of a pen, as Garcia looked at the screen covered in news paper articles concerning Gotham's fallen economy, and high crime rate. There were reports concerning the mob, but they were less and less of those as time went on.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That place is a pool of evil. I'd suggest you'd all high-tail it out of there if it weren't for the psycho doing... That, there. To those women."

"Yeah, I know. Can you check which ones are fit?"

"Oh, that'll be easy. Give me a challenge. We're down to 5 guys now."

"I'm putting you on speaker now, give us the list."

"Hey guys. Okay we got a Charles Brooks, Anthony Delgado, Joshua Franks, Tylor Todd, and finally, Victor Zsasz. Their addresses have been sent to your PDAs."

"Thanks baby girl, you're the best."

"Garcia, um. Can you tell us how each of them lost their money?" Reid needed to know how each of them lost their money, the profile saidtheunsub was upset at the idea of having to pay someone else.

"Not for Charles Brooks. He couldn't have done it," Gideon injected. "His whole family lost their fortune. That's why the parents seemed more upset by the bloodied furniture."

"Okay, well, for Delgado, he defrauded on his taxes. A lot. He tried blaming his accountant, but his accountant was proven innocent. Franks, however, was lucky enough to win the Power-ball lottery, and quickly spent all his money on a new house, a new car, and expensive furniture."

"Cross out Franks," Hotchner pointed to Elle, who was standing by the board, "continue Garcia."

"Ah-hem," she cleared her throat.

"Continue, amazing goddess," Hotchner smiled at the open phone.

"Thank you. Okay, Todd... He seemed to loss it all in a bad investment. Apparently, the company he thought was legit turned out to be scamming him for all he's worth, and left him living with his parents again. Ouch. As for Mr. Zsasz here, he's pretty much the opposite of Franks."

"Why do you say that Garcia?" Reid tapped an open pen into the palm of his hand without realising.

"Well.. His parents died three and a half months ago in boat accident. Zsasz fell into a depression, and lost all his money," the clacking of keys quickened, "gambling. Poor guy."

"Thanks baby girl. You're the best," Morgan picked up the phone, preparing to shut the phone.

"You know it." She hung up, and Morgan put his phone back into the carrying case.

"So, we're down to Delgado, Franks and Zsasz," Elle crossed her arms looking at the board.

"Get the addresses to that.. Detective Gordon, get arrest warrants on these guys. We need to catch this guy before he devolves," Gideon waved at Hotchner, while approaching the board. The women's poses continued to mock them.

-JCxSR-

While the BAU team tracked down possible suspects, a large amount of the cops sitting around the station received a mass text that came from the real boss of the police. Many of them checked at different times, to try and lower any suspicion from the good cops that actually tried their best for Gotham City.

The text read: '_Work with the feds. Catch the guy. Delete this message ASAP.'_ Something was definitely up in the crime world, as Flass needed to know. He knew he shouldn't call the number, but considering how desperate Falcone seemed, it was likely that he was going to talk more about what those deliveries were about. Flass speed-dialed in Falcone's number.

"What is it Flass?" Falcone sounded stressed.

"What's goin' on? You actually want us to work?"

"Yes, this psycho is killing innocent women. I don't like the idea of this guy taking down so many young women in my city. Especially since the Feds are here."

"Is a delivery goin' to happen?"

"You heard nothin' about no delivery, got it? I'll talk to you later, apparently, every bone head is just as lost as you." The small radio in the undercover car began reporting a new murder, similar to the others, but instead of a young woman, it was an older man.

"This station has just been informed that the 21st victim in a string of murders has been found his car near the police station, at the corner of 19th and Pulaski Road. No officers have arrived on the scene to confirm or deny this information."

"Damn it," Flass slammed the wheel, and tossed the remains of his snack out the window.

-JCxSR-

Detective Gordon was on the phone with Judge Faden, trying to explain how he needed arrest warrants for the three suspects.

"Look, I'm sure the profilers are great and all, but there's no evidence." It was pretty obviously that this judge wasn't going to cooperate with Gordon at all, like many of the judges in the city.

"Faden, as long as this guy is out there, more people are going to die. Do you really want that on your hands?"

"Give me a second, I just got something on my desk," Faden put the phone on mute, and picked up the envelope, "Where'd this come from?"

"Some guy told me to give this to you," the mail-boy shrugged, and continued his rounds. Faden opened his drawer to get his letter opener to find it missing. He sighed, and tossed the envelope down to further check the drawer. After only seconds of searching, he quit, and wrote a note to have a new one ordered. He opened the large envelope roughly, only to drop it as soon as he saw what was inside.

"You've got your warrents. Just get this guy. And send a unit to my office, I've got evidence for you," he told Gordon. He found his letter opener, covered in blood.

-JCxSR-

The warrents were printed as quickly as possibly, and road block was set up around the Judge, as well as the new scene.

"Whoever it is, he's devolving, and fast," Morgan stood at the head of the car with Gideon. Police lights flashed all around, and the gas station owner was being questioned by Hotchner and the police. The unsub had gotten this guy when he was pulling in to get his gas, and left him in a position where he was reaching to shut off his car, while was still running at this time.

"We've already given the police all we can, we can't exactly tell them who's going to be next," Elle rubbed her forehead to try and relieve some of the building stress. Originally, she had desperately wanted this job, but with each case, it just wore her down more and more.

"But we can still lower the profile to one guy," Gideon paced back and forth next to the pumps.

"Delgado would be angry with feds, he wouldn't kill women trying to pay their debts, he would be killing office works from the IRS, accountants. If he was killing," Reid pointed out, and continued along his track of thought, "and Todd's living with his parents, he's trying to get back on his feet. He had some bad luck, but not enough to make him want to kill someone. It has to be Zsasz. Not only did he lose all his money, he lost his parents."

"Get the information out, we're looking for Victor Zsasz."

-JCxSR-

**Author note: I feel like a creepy stalker because of this story. I had to look up places in Chicago (Where a numbers of scenes from Batman Begins/The Dark Knight were shoot), and find places that work with the actual city. On the corner of 19th and Pulaski Road is actually a gas station. :/**

**The main point of this chapter was to get the team down to a single suspect. And such. It was less about establishing a relationship between our good doctors, and more about establishing the corruption in Gotham, and how hard it is to live there.**

**Once more, point out any spelling mistakes or incomprehensible grammar.**


	3. Dripping

**The Tale of a Man and the Monsters**

**Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are owned by DC Comics, and The Mark Gordon Company, respectively.**

-JCxSR-

_Victor Zsasz was an angry and lonely man, with heavy wide-set shoulders, and a face that was forgettable, unless it was glaring at you straight in the face. He was an angry and lonely man indeed. He wrapped the letter-opener in a thick plastic bag, wrapping it twice over to keep it from ripping open the fragile paper of a thin envelope. He had to be careful. You can't taunt them if you lose the taunt. He steamed the envelope closed, he couldn't give them everything thing._

_He pulled on the light, lifeless arm of the woman he just saved. She was a sweetheart, she let him without a question; probably because she had set-up that date with him when he visited the office. Thankfully, she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, if she had bothered to look up his name, she would have seen he was just another bum, not the rich man he bragged to be. She probably dreamed of the rich, lavish dinner they would have._

_He sighed, heavily. He was an angry and lonely man indeed. He drew her up, dancing slowly around the cheap, fibre-wood furniture, until he found her queen sized bed in the far corner of the apartment. No, no, he had already done that too many times. It was time for something special, she had just turned 21. He continued dancing, humming quietly, not listening to the world, listening only to the quiet, and the drip. That dripping faucet. He would kill to stop it from dripping, again and again._

_It was hard trying to find his way back through the clutter and the dark of her apartment. What was her name again? Oh, what does it matter, he was going to treat her very nicely. Oh yes, that would do, it would do nicely._

-JCxSR-

Ried stood silently in the back, while crime scene investigators combed through all they could. He wandered around the lot, looking for camera. Maybe, by a chance, Victor Zsasz was dumb enough to allow them to see where he went, and how he did his posing. Gideon and Morgan were both also just walking around, Morgan looking frustrated, while Gideon kept his face flat.

"Is there a video camera?" Ried somehow had wandered his way to the gas station owner, currently surrounded by a flock of questioning police officers. Apparently, no one heard him, and the obvious was flying over people's heads.

"Excuse me, but… Do you happen to have a video camera?" He butted his way into the circle, easily squeezing between the large spaces between the even larger men.

"Uh, yeah. It's live-feed only here. The videos are kept with the company that put them in," the owner looked confused, and haggard. It had been a long night, and nobody was working at full steam.

-JCxSR-

_Victor Zsasz drove of from her apartment, enjoying the rumble of the engine; it was significantly better than the dripping of her damn faucet. He was glad to be done with her, and to be done in the place. He pulled into a gas station not far from her place. He saw an older man pumping his gas. He pulled in slowly behind the man. _

_The man walked in to pay the attendant, who seemed to be blissfully ignorant, and the screens showing the pumps didn't seem to work all to well considering how the televisions were set to a football game, and a porno._

_When the man came back, and Zsasz's current car was filled, he decided to maybe change his choice. Men could suffer all the same as women could; blood was blood no matter the body. As the knife cut quickly across the man's throat, not a single sound escaping, Zsasz quickly learned that the idea was wrong. The blood that spilled from the open gash felt wrong. So very wrong. And that god damn AWFUL DRIP was back. It was the same pace, and twice as loud. _

_He left the man reaching inside his car and decided it was time to return the letter opener the sweet girl had let him borrow. Maybe he'd meet some of her nice friends. That would cheer him up. It would cheer him up quite a bit._

-JCxSR-

"I doubt you were even paying attention," piped in Morgan. He stepped in behind the owner.

The owner sighed heavily, and turned away. He looked low at his feet as the body was finally being rolled off the scene into the coroner's truck, " I wasn't even here," he confessed in the lowest voice.

"Then who was here?" pressed Hotchner. The police officers were all dumbfounded; they hadn't actually asked anything before the arrival of the FBI. Hell, they didn't even know if there were any witnesses to the earlier crimes; the hotline that was set up and advertised on the television lead to a phone-sex company. And nobody even tried calling it.

"My son. He's not exactly the most attentive kid, but he means well," the older gentlemen looked sheepishly at the brooding special agent.

"Where is your son now, sir? Any and all information on this killer is vital to have. We're very close to catching him," Spencer looked desperately toward the man. He twisted his bag strap.

"I sent him home, he couldn't handle any of this at all. He was a sobbing mess when I got here."

"You mean to say he called you first?" asked Hotchner.

"Well, yes.. I mean, no offence to the officers here, but... Gotham isn't exactly the safest city, and we don't exactly trust the cops like we probably should. They aren't all that clean, you get me?"

"Well, we're not your city's officers, so please, tell us anything your son told you," Hotchner clenched his jaw as soon as he finished speaking. How bad could a city truly get if its citizen's counted more on each other more than the officers hired to protect and serve them?

"Well he said this guy came in and paid, and when he hadn't heard the engine go off for 15 minutes, he looked over. When he saw the guy hunched over, he went to go check. He thought maybe the guy had a heart attack or something. When he saw the blood, he went in a called me straight away," the older man wrung his hands together. "Believe me, he didn't have anything to do with this, he said some bald guy had something to do with it."

"Thank you sir, for your honesty," Hotchner walked away from the conversation, Morgan and Spencer in tow. The two officers beside the man wandered aimlessly, they didn't know what to do on a crime scene anymore, it'd been too long for them to remember.

-JCxSR-

_He slowly parked, and walked into the building. There was a younger man at the door, picking up the mail that had been collected through out the day on the front desk. He would work._

_"Excuse me, may I?" Zsasz smoothly walked up beside him. There was no one else in the entrance, the secretary was done for the day, and the security guards couldn't care less about their job. They, like the attendant at the gas station, were probably drinking some beers and laughing at some dirty jokes._

_"May you what, sir?" The young man looked dead pan toward Zsasz, his acne covered face greasy and unkept shined under the heavy florescent lights._

_"May I deliver the mail? I have a special package I would love to give to someone."_

_"I'm not allowed to let you in, sir."_

_"Oh, but I insist." He drew out the end of his bloodied knife, the dull dark blood crusty. __The teenager fainted on the sight of it. 'Well that was easy.' Zsasz dragged the body into a hallway. stripped him of his clothes. put them on top of his, and immediately went to wrong. The taunt was useless if you didn't _

-JCxSR-

**Author note: I literally just typed this. I haven't been even thinking about this story. Then, I got a notification that someone watched this, or something. I decided, since I have time now, I'm going to pick up where I left off. Also, I'm dropping the slash in this; I'm making it a sick one-sided affection. Because I don't feel like developing a healthy relationship in my stories anymore. Yaaay.**

******As with any other properly written fanfction, I apologize for any misspellings, and for any improper grammar. I'm only human**


End file.
